Empty Memory
by the.goal.is.greatness
Summary: You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember. [Sylar x OC]
1. Chapter 01 Flashback

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 1,026  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _In every journey, the traveler must ask: was the right path taken? Many roads are long and winding, filled with those who have lost their way. Some forge their own course, guided by faith; seeking not a location, but a kindred soul. Others step together, finding safety in the arms of another. A few remove themselves from the trail, to avoid the path of temptation. But those who watch the track too closely fail to see where it led them. They're often all too surprised by the destination._

* * *

In her dreams there was no face. But there was the smell of oil and a musky scent like a man's cologne. There was the coppery smell of blood; metallic and cloying and so thick in the air she could taste it on her tongue. The outline of the man was blurry, but the imprint of him was still there, even after she awakens. She didn't know his face, or his name, or the sound of his voice. But she could feel calloused hands against her own, the thrumming of power beneath her hands. And always she could hear ticking, ticking, ticking...

A time blares so suddenly that Evelyn Taylors upsets the cup of coffee she is pouring, spilling darkly, scented liquid spilling towards the counter's edge. "Shit!"

"You gathering wool again, Taylors?"

She throws a rueful glance over her shoulder, but doesn't take her gaze away from her task: trying to make sure nothing drips on the floor. "Oh ha-ha, Brad, don't try and help me or anything." Task accomplished, she turns to pin him with a narrowed, chocolate-eyed glare.

He leers. "I like the view better from back here," he says, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

An eye roll. "You pig." But she isn't upset. That's just the way he is. It's the way a lot of people are in the hospitality industry, honestly, even the coffee house where she works now. Something about the long hours, the menial labor for tips, the mutual hatred of entitled customers, made you so close to your coworkers that you just rolled with things.

"You love me." He's already turning back towards the seating area, eyes scanning the room in an impassive way, looking for tables to bus, tips to pick up, coffees to refill. Seeing nothing that needs his immediate attention, his gaze swings back to her. "So… what were you thinking about so intensely?" He grins. "Anything good?"

She laughs and swats at his arm. "You think my life is much more exciting than it is, you know?" She leans against the counter, straightening coasters with intensity. She's silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I have the same dream a lot," she finally admitted.

Brad blinks. "Really? I've never had the same dream twice, not exactly anyway." He leans on his elbows, crowding in closer, giving her his undivided attention. "What was it about?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. It's just – images, or impressions. I don't know. A clock. Lots of clocks. The room smells like Murphy Oil and… Axe? Or something."

His eyes brighten. "So there's a man?"

Evie is quiet, thinking. She can still feel rough hands against her own, and the dream-memory makes her shiver. "I don't know, it's just a dream –"

"Excuse me?"

The both jump, surprised at the polite voice, and turn towards the counter, server-smiles plastered onto their faces. "Hi there!" She says in false cheer. "How may I help you today?"

The man smiles, slow and satisfied. "I'd like a small coffee, please. Black."

He reaches up to adjust a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with practiced ease, and the light glints off the winder against the lenses, momentarily blinding Evie, who feels herself go rigid with memory. There were glasses like that in her dream, light flashing in her eyes right before she sees a dark hand outstretched towards her face. There is a searing pain shooting through her skull

"That'll be $2.50, sir," Brad says. "And she'll have your coffee right out to you."

Evie snaps back to reality with a start, head throbbing. She gives herself a mental shake and smiles at the man. "On it!"

He smiles again. "Thank you very much." He peers intently at her nametag, glasses glinting like the sun on water. "Evelyn."

* * *

" _Evelyn! Gabriel! Come back here!" The angered voice of Virginia Gray is fading even as she's calling for the two children who are running pell-mell down the street._

 _The young boy, maybe nine, grabs her wrist and tugs her into a side alley. Following blindly, the pair make their way down to a dead end, before climbing a fire escape up to the roof. When they're reached the summit of their tower, they pause, breathing heavily. One glance at each other and they erupt into laughter._

" _Did you see my mom's face?" Gabriel is alight with mirth, eyes shining._

" _You're not gonna get in trouble, are you?" Evie knew she wouldn't get in trouble, Gabriel's mom loved her, but she was worried that he might get grounded and then she wouldn't have anyone to play with._

" _Nah." He grinned. "I'm just gonna tell her that it was your idea."_

" _Hey!" Before he can see her move, she leaps on him, tackling him to the ground. They roll over and over in a tangle of arms and legs. They're giggling and laughing as they play, children in the glow of their youth. When they finally come to a stop, Gabriel is sprawled on his back with Evie beside him, their arms are spread-eagled. As they huff to catch their breath, Evie's voice, quiet and young, breaks the silence. "We'll always be friends, right?"_

 _There is no pause before he answers. "Of course!"_


	2. Chapter 02 Recall

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 716  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Perhaps there's a master plan that drives the randomness of creation. Something unknowable that dwells in the soul, and presents each one of us with a unique set of challenges that will help us discover who we really are._

* * *

The weeks eek by, monotonous and simple and boring. Evie does not lead an exciting life. She works, she goes home. Rinse. Repeat. Every now and then she'll go out for drinks with her work friends, but mostly she stays at home, in her apartment, and reads her books. People tell her that she is an introvert, but she doesn't feel like one. She simply prefers her own company, prefers to scour the pages of her novels looking for the perfect man.

She had dated, briefly, a spattering of men a few years ago. But she found herself dumping them for reasons she didn't understand. When her friends tried to set her up, tried to ask her what her type was, she made excuses. She couldn't tell him that what she was looking for was a man who smelled like her dream. That she was looking for the feel of a very specific set of shoulders under her hands, but she didn't know who they belonged to. Well, they belonged to a dream, which was even worse than forgetting who they belonged to. She wasn't a slut, just crazy.

When she heaved a sigh, it made a table of two elderly ladies glance at her with identical, disapproving frowns. Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus more on the task at hand: restocking the creamers and straws and various coffee shop paraphernalia at the island in the middle of the dining room. She already knew she was crazy, she didn't need the customer's knowing it, too, her tips would nosedive.

The chiming of the bell made her turn around, smile affixed to her face. "Hi! Oh!" It's the man with the horn-rimmed glasses. "Welcome back, sir! A black coffee?"

He seems momentarily taken aback by her remembrance of him, but that's what working in a restaurant forces down your throat. He slides his glance to the right, and Evie suddenly notices the tall, dark-skinned man beside him. "Yes, a black coffee for me. And an Earl Grey tea, for my friend here."

"Coming right up!"

She throws herself into making the drinks with more energy than the two simple items require, unable to shake off the feeling that she knows that second man. It's not that she remembers him from here, she'd definitely remember that, but his presence feels… familiar. A dark whole, an emptiness where he stands, that makes him feel… dangerous.

She brings the drinks to their table, remembering to smile, to not appear nervous. "Here you go, you guys!" She says cheerfully, reaching out to hand them their respective drinks. "Anything else I can –"

Earl Grey Tea reaches out to take his drink from her, an all Evie can see is the flash of glasses in her dream, the shadowy hand reaching out for her, the blinding pain in her head.

And then she doesn't see anything at all.

* * *

" _Catch me if you can!" Gabriel's voice is taunting and it makes Evie want to punch him in the face. It's not_ her _fault that he's bigger than her! He's older! He's got longer legs and he runs faster! She hates playing tag! It was unfair! Without warning, she starts to cry. She's only nine, after all._

 _Gabriel is suddenly in front of her, dark eyes wide and regretful. "I'm sorry, Evie, don't cry."_

" _You always w-w-want to play t-tag!" She wails. "B-but I'm too small to," she hiccups, "catch you!"_

 _The twelve year old suddenly envelops her in his arms. "Don't worry! I'll always let you catch me!"_

 _She's hiccupping more swiftly now, but her tears are slowing to a trickle. "You promise?"_

" _I promise."_


	3. Chapter 03 Mindfulness

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 585  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Evil forces gather. The dark sun rises. Soon it will be too late. Will you choose your own path, or will you have it chosen for you?_

* * *

When she wakes, she is disoriented and confused. And terrified. She has no idea where she is, but it is not the coffee shop. All she sees is blackness when she opens her eyes and panic overwhelms her for long moments before she realizes that she's just blindfolded.

She snorts. _Just blindfolded. I mean, I guess I could be blind and that would be worse – but this isn't good._

A jolt sends her surging forward and it is then she realizes that she's in a car – a van, probably. That means there must be at least one other person in here with her. Someone has to be driving. "H- hello?"

"Ah, you're awake."

She recognizes that voice from the shop. "Black coffee?"

There's a chuckle, and it's such a normal sound for a kidnapper to have that it throws her off. "My name is Noah Bennett."

Terrified though she is, she can't help but asking, "How do I know that's your real name? You're kidnapping me, why should I believe anything you say?"

"You're right, of course. But I'm not lying to you, I have no reason to." There's a slip of fabric and an influx of light and then she's blinking in the dim light in the back of a van at Noah Bennett's bland and seemingly trusting face. "You see my friend driving up there?" She leans around him and sees that Earl Grey Tea is driving the car, silent as a church, eyes focused intently on the road before him. "He can make you forget anything."

She blanched. Would they really kill her? "Why are you doing this to me? I've done nothing wrong." Her voice is wobbling with tears and terror.

Black Coffee reaches out to brush a strand of dirty blonde hair away from her face. "It not what you've done. It's what you could do.

* * *

" _What about this one, Gabriel?"_

 _He glances up dispassionately. Evie has been modeling outfits for him for the past hour, trying to find the "perfect" one for the first day of High School the next day. Her room looked like a department store warehouse had blown up. "It's – " He trailed off._

 _Evie was fourteen, so much younger than his seventeen. He was almost an adult, while she was still a child. They'd known each other for ten years, they saw each other every day. So how had he not noticed that she was not a little girl anymore? Jeans hugged defined legs, cupped the emerging flare of a hip just so. A loose top dipped down, revealing the sharp angle of collarbone, the smallest hint of breasts that he had never noticed she had. Her cheeks were still childishly chubby and her hair still in pigtails, but she was starting at him earnestly, nervous about tomorrow._

" _Fine," he finished lamely, feeling inordinately pleased with himself when she smiled. He turned back the book in his lap. "You look fine."_


	4. Chapter 04 Deadeye

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 787  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Where does it come from, this quest, this need to solve life's mysteries from the simplest of questions can never be answered. Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream? Perhaps we'd be better off not looking at all. Not delving. Not yearning. But that's not human nature, not the human heart. That is not why we are here._

* * *

A glass of cold water thrown into her face wakes her out of a stupor. She sputters and coughs, blinking her eyes in the dim, rickety light. She didn't remember anything after the ride in that van. Had they drugged her? Her mind felt fuzzy and addled – full of cotton.

"Tell us what you remember."

She starts at the voice, trembling as Black Coffee emerges from the shadows as terrifyingly as any movie villain, his glasses glinting, his smile plaster. "W- what?"

"About your childhood, Evelyn Taylors." He sits across from her, the chair screeching across the floor gratingly, leaning on the table between them. "What do you remember?"

When she goes to lift her arms to shrug, she realizes she's handcuffed to the chair she's sitting in, and the panic swirling in her gut begins to spiral high into her throat. "What is this?" Her voice trembles.

"It's for your protection."

"My _protection_?!" Her brown eyes flash with a sudden burst of ire. "I'm just a barista! And you're chaining me to a chair for my _protection_? From _what_?! What is going on here?!"

"What do you remember?" He asked again, instead.

She makes an exasperated expression. "About my childhood?" She gestures helplessly as much as she can manage. "I don't know – nothing. Most people don't."

"But what about the rest? Your teenage years – people remember those?"

"I – " She stops, not willing to tell him that her mind, as always, was a big blank when she thought about her past. People had stories of middle and high school – of birthdays, and first kisses, first loves, first cars – of their families and friends. Evie had none of those things. "I don't know."

That fake as plaster smile again. "You see Miss Taylors, I think you do remember some things. More than you should."

A blink. "What does that mean?"

"You should remember nothing, the Haitian should have seen to that." A frown in the direction of the door. "But I think you do, and I want to know everything you know about his powers."

Her eyes are wide with confusion. "I don't understand." Her voice is small and scared.

"You will, Miss Taylors, you will."

* * *

" _Never have I ever… gone skinny dipping."_

" _You've never been skinny dipping?!" Evie's voice is loud and surprised._

 _Gabriel frowns at her. "And you have?"_

 _A shrug. "Sure, with the girls on the cheerleading team." She grins at him, lopsided and charming. Gabriel forced his mind away from the image of his best friend naked with a slew of other girls. They're fourteen – too young for him. He's grateful when she continues their game. "Never have I ever ridden a horse."_

 _He snorts. "Yeah, me neither." He stops and thinks, eyes wandering over the sky above the roof they're lying on. "Never have I ever… been in love."_

 _It's her turn to snort. "You're seventeen, you martyr, not seventy. I'm pretty sure no one has been in love for real at seventeen. Um, my turn, hmmm… never have I ever… been kissed." Her voice is quiet at the end._

 _His eyes flash over to hers. "What?"_

 _She frowns. "It's not that bad! I – "_

" _No, no, no! I mean – " He's surprised. He's known Evie her whole life, all but a few of his, so sometimes he forgets to see her as a girl. To him she's just Evie, his best friend, the girl who doesn't think it's weird that his father makes watches when most people don't use them anymore. A girl who'd rather spend time with him than with anyone else. "I just mean – you're a cheerleader," he finishes lamely._

 _She slaps his arm. "And we're all sluts, right? Geez, grow up."_

 _But she's laughing so she's not mad, and he laughs, too. Underneath the amusement though he feels a twinge and it takes a moment for him to identify the emotion… He's happy that she hasn't been kissed yet._


	5. Chapter 05 Consciousness

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 1,483  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _We all imagine ourselves as the agents of our destiny, capable of determining our own fate, but have we truly any choice in when we rise, or when we fall? Or does a force larger than ourselves bid us our direction?_

* * *

After he asks her a series of endless questions about people that she doesn't know, about places she has never been, about things she doesn't remember, she is thrown in a cell. It is nice, she supposes, as prisons go, with a glass door and sterile looking floors and walls. But a prison is still a prison and she doesn't deserve to be here, she hasn't done anything.

"Let me out of here! Please!" She bangs on the door hoping to shatter it, but it only bruises her fists and hurts her arms. "Please," she sinks to the ground sobbing, but no one comes, no one answers. There is only silence and the ticking of a clock.

The ticking eases something inside of her, makes her take a deep, shaky breath to calm herself. It is a soothing sound, like a memory from a dream, like when you hear someone hum a song that you suddenly remember that your mother used to sing to you. But it doesn't change the fact the she is trapped her, for what she doesn't know, for how long she doesn't know. She doesn't know who took her or understand the things they want to know.

She wants to go home.

But a small, brief part of her, asks _to what?_ She lives in a two bedroom apartment by herself. She does not have any family, or friends save the few people she knows from the coffee house. She has no pictures of her entire life. The furthest back she can remember is… she doesn't know. How do you age your memories? She doesn't remember being a child, or a teenager though. There's no memory of any off those things. And the part of her that is wondering what she would leave her to, wonders if there is something that she doesn't remember, that these people do…

* * *

" _Are there people here yet?"_

 _Gabriel sighs for the tenth time and looks up from the book he's fiddling with to stare at the bathroom door in exasperation. "Yes, there are. They are probably wondering why the person who's birthday party they came to isn't down there yet."_

" _Everything has to be perfect!" Her voice is muffled by the door and he hears a few things clatter around on the counter. "It's not every day you turn sixteen, you know!"_

 _He rolls his eyes. He remembered – that had been three years ago for him. All he'd gotten was a part-time job sweeping up the floor in his father's watch shop, he wasn't allowed to touch the merchandise unless he snuck in after hours._

" _Is Tommy here?"_

" _I don't know, why?" He frowns. Tommy is a good for nothing – the local heart throb of the neighborhood. Seventeen and worldly to Evie, but a punk kid to Gabriel. As Evie steps out of the bathroom, she answering him, but he doesn't hear a single word. His mouth falls open._

 _To him, Evie has always been the girl next store. The cliché plotline to every movie. Though he's known before that she was cute – big brown eyes and freckled cheeks, a dimple on one side when she smiled too wide. But he forgot things like that because he always remembered the time she ate so many cookies she threw up and the time she got her hair stuck in a barbed wire fence and cried when he cut it out. But she had always seemed too much younger than him to label as 'beautiful.'_

 _But now she wearing a mid-thigh length black dress, belted at her small waist with a bright pink ribbon. Her shoulders are bare to his gaze, and the long line of her legs that end in matching pink heels. Her hair is soft and tousled in a 'just rolled out of bed' manner that he finds incredible appealing. She hasn't put on much makeup, thank God, but her lips are glossy with something that makes his eyes focus on them intently until he realizes she is clearly waiting for an answer._

" _What?"_

 _She fidgets. "I mean, I just – if it was my first, it would be, you know – awesome. But what if I'm bad at it?"_

 _His mind tries to catch up with her words. Her first – they were talking about Tommy – "Your first what?" He doesn't recognize his own voice and is surprised to realize that he is… angry._

 _She blinks. "My first kiss." She furrows her brow at him. "What did you think – actually, never mind, I knew what you thought. I'd be offended, but I'm trying to ask you for a favor."_

 _A favor? She wanted him to help her kiss that asshole kid from two blocks up, the same one that chased old lady Johnson's cat up a tree? "I don't think – "_

" _Come on, Gabriel!" She abruptly sitting on the bed beside him, so close he can count her eyelashes. "I don't want to mess up, so I'd rather practice before hand!" His face must convey his confusion, because she continues. "I mean, - you must have kissed girls before, I thought," He watches with fascination as a blush appears on her cheeks, spreading down her throat and collarbones. He wondered how far – "I thought you could teach me… how…" She's mumbling at the end, red as anything, and avoiding his eyes._

 _For some reason, he'd avoided thinking about it. When he'd realized years ago that he was happy she hadn't kissed any of the silly boys from the neighborhood, he'd forced the thought from his mind intensely. He didn't have the right to think about her that way – she was his best friend!_

 _And – and – he had never kissed anyone either. There weren't many girls here that were clamoring to kiss the weird son of the watchmaker who was friends with a fifteen – now sixteen – year old. It had never, not once, bothered him before._

 _But – but –_

 _He could be her first. A sleeping beast uncoiled in his chest, stretching its limbs and yawning awake and rumbling with… possessiveness. He could be the first person to ever press his lips to hers. No one could ever take that away from him. It is not nervous energy that surges through him at the thought – but anticipation._

 _As he reaches out to her, he has a brief flash of thought that he might be bad at this, but then he tilts her chin up and leans down, and no – there is nothing more right than this._

 _Her lips are soft as flower petals. When they open as she gasps, he doesn't waste the opportunity, but slides he tongue into her mouth to twine tentatively with hers. When he feel the lightest brush of her hands against the nape of his neck, he hums in contentment at the feeling and reaches out with his own arms to pull her into him, one hand at the back of her head to tilt her upwards, so he could tilt his own head and slant his mouth downwards._

 _Her fingers curled in his hair, nails the lightest brush and he wishes he could purr in pleasure at the sensation. He lets his own nails drag just so down her scalp and she moans, a sharp, surprised sound, and Gabriel smiles against her mouth._

 _He pulls away in a teasing brush of lips and lets his eyes slide open, pupils pinpricks as he stares at her. Her eyes are still closed. She's panting, her cheeks flushed, her lips reddened and thoroughly kissed. "You're – " She swallows thickly, eyes fluttering open. "You're a really good kisser."_

 _His chest swells and he can't help the purely male streak in him that makes him say, "Better than Tommy."_

 _She blinks and it takes her a moment to remember what he's talking about. "I – yeah, probably." She staring at him strangely, but she hasn't pulled away from the circle of his arms._

 _When a loud burst of conversation from downstairs flares, he knows someone will come up looking for her soon. So he stands, pulling her with him so they can go join the party. But he can't stop himself from leaning down and kissing her once more, trying to sear the memory into his mind, into hers._


	6. Chapter 06 Recapture

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 975  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Some individuals, it is true, are more special. This is natural selection. It begins as a single individual, born or hatched like every other member of their species. Anonymous. Seemingly ordinary. Except they're not. They carry inside them the genetic code that will take their species to the next evolutionary rung. It's destiny._

* * *

It is days, weeks, months later, she doesn't know, when the cell across the hallway from her is filled with another prisoner. They through the man in and leave in a hurry, fear in every line of their bodies. But Evie doesn't care. The man could be a serial killer and she wouldn't care. There is no one to talk to except for when they question her. Sometimes _days_ go before they come to her. She talks to herself a lot, but it is not the same as having real, human contact. She wants him to wake just so she can hear someone's voice, but he remains blissfully unconscious for an entire day.

Sylar groans when he awakens. He is on a harsh floor, one arm folded uncomfortably underneath him. He can tell by the lack of feeling in it that he has been lying here for a while. The world around him spirals as he sits up. What the –

He remembers glasses and frowns. _Noah Bennett…_ He should have known. But where –

"Oh, thank God you're awake! I was getting worried!"

He startles at the voice – familiar. When he turns, there is a young woman standing in her cell opposite him, watching him through the glass with wide brown eyes. Her face is pale with lack of sun and sleep deprivation, so the freckles spread across her cheeks and nose stand out in stark relief. She raises one hand and gives a little wave – he remembers those hands, remembers them reaching out…

"I'm Evie Taylors…"

His mind stumbles to stop. Evie – what, what is happening, why is she here? Why – She is looking at him expectantly and he realizes with a pang that nothing has changed. She does not remember him. "Sy –" He stops, corrects himself. "Gabriel Grey."

"That's a nice name," she says, sliding down the glass to sit on the floor, still close enough to hold a quiet conversation. She frowns… "It sounds… familiar, like a comic book character or something." She smiles and his heart lurches at the sight of the dimple.

"How long have you been here?" His voice is hoarse with disuse. Even as he asks, he's reaching out with his gifts, trying to rattle the doors, trying to unlock the cells, but there is nothing. He is too weak or the Haitian is too close. He can't reach her.

"I don't know." She glances at a watch on her wrist and he almost cries out at the sight of it. "I lost track of the days about a week in." Her voice is small and she pulls her knees up to her chest. "I don't even know why I'm here. A guy in glasses and his partner or something took me."

"Noah Bennett and the Haitian."

She looks up at him. "The Haitian?"

"He's dangerous."

She's watching him intently. "Are you in here because you're dangerous?" She asks finally.

His smile is slow and predatory. "Yes, but not to you."

* * *

 _Gabriel is almost shaking with nerves. He hasn't been this nervous since… well ever. His father had started letting him work in the shop after his twentieth birthday, but in the past year, all he'd been officially allowed to do was minor repairs and cleanings. He wasn't allowed to do the really intricate stuff yet. Not while his dad was around anyway._

 _But he'd been planning this gift for months, and so he'd snuck into the shop every night after everyone was asleep to work on it. It had taken him months to get it perfect. He was surprised how easily this came to him, his father always made it seem like the inner working of watches was like creating a new universe, but it wasn't to him. But this… this was the first, this one was special, there could be no mistakes._

 _He reaches out to wrap a knuckle against the glass window very lightly, knowing she's awake. A moment later the blinds hurl upwards and Evie's face is grinning at him on the other side. Moments later her window is open and he's climbing off her fire escape into her room, being careful with the small box in his hands._

" _Gabriel!" Her eyes are zeroed in on what he's holding. "Is that for me?"_

 _He affects a haughty tone. "It is unbecoming to be so impatient."_

 _She merely rolls her eyes and reaches out. "Gimme!" Then she ripping open the box gleefully, while he watches with his heart in his throat. Her fingers pause as she lifts the item reverently from its cushion. "Gabriel – "_

 _It's a watch. But it is perfect for her, fitting her wrist like it was meant for her – because it was. And underneath, an engraving, that he watches her read with nervous terror._

 _She's looking up at him, eyes glistening. "Did you_ make _this?" He nods. "Really?"_

" _Is it… okay? I've never… made a watch from scratch before…"_

" _It's beautiful…" Her voice is soft, and her thumb brushes over the engraving once more._

Time will never part us.

 _He smiles and reaches out to fasten it on her. "Happy birthday, Evie."_


	7. Chapter 07 Awareness

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 1,174  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _The question of good or evil, reduced to one simple choice: Survive. Or perish._

* * *

He plans his escape, and hers, with the focus of invading a small country. He waits, builds his strength, his energy for days. Most importantly, he talks to Evie – she does not know him that is clear and that hurts. But it is such a… joy to hear her voice, see her smile. Several times he makes her laugh out and the sound makes her heart clench like a vice in his chest.

She doesn't even know how important she is to his plan – but she doesn't need to. She just needs to have faith in him. So he tells her why he is here. Not all of it, not the nitty gritty details – but enough that she understands what kind of person he is. That she understands that he is dangerous, so dangerous that when they escape he will kill whomever stands in their way. But not her, never her. She must know that at least.

"So you have… powers?" She sounded skeptical.

She gasps when he reaches out a hand and uses a mere sliver of his power to float the measly pillow on his cot around the room. "Yes, many."

Her eyes are wide with surprise, then, just as swiftly, with delight. "Can you get us out of here? Is that why they locked you away – because you're strong?"

He smiles. "Yes… and yes. I will get us out of here, Evelyn…" His voice softens. "Evie. I promise."

"But how?"

The how is revealed a week later when the guard comes to shove food into their cells. Evie is sprawled across the floor of her cell, a crumbled heap of akimbo arms and legs. The guard glances from her to Sylar, unsure.

Gabriel shrugs. "Maybe she finally starved to death."

The guard hesitates, then lets himself into her room. The moment he does, Sylar reaches out and yanks him with all his strength against the wall. He falls in a heap and Evie stands, staring at his body with wide eyes. Glass shattering makes her turn her head, watching as Gabriel steps through the shattered remains of his cell window. He holds out a hand to her. "Let's go."

* * *

" _Come on, Evie, let's go."_

 _She giggles at him… giggles! Like a child, and he feels his ire rise. "Noooo I'm having fun!" She spins in a circle, arms splayed wide, to prove her point. He reaches out when she stumbles, but she catches herself and stares at him happily._

" _You're drunk."_

 _A grin, dimples flashing. "Yup!"_

 _He sighs. "Evie, where did you get the fake ID?"_

 _She puts a finger to her lips, pretending to think. "Someone." That cheeky brat –_

" _Come on. I'll take you back to my apartment so your mother doesn't kill you." When he reached for her wrist, she took several darting steps backwards, but tripped over her ridiculous heels. This time he grabbed her, pulling her close to keep her from falling. "Evie, let's go."_

 _Her head lolls back so she's staring directly into his face. "You're so pretty, Gabriel."_

 _He sighs and shifts her to his side, letting her lean on him as he walks her home. It is a slow, teetering process, made longer by the fact that five blocks from his apartment she throws her shoes into some bushes and complains that her feel hurt. To expedite the process he lifts her into his arm, determined to carry her the remainder of the way. But he was unprepared for having her so close to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, the feel of her soft thigh under her hand, the smell of her perfume in his nose._

 _By the time they're in his living room, he's rigid with self-control, and can't wait so set her on his couch so she can pass out. But when he sets her down and moves to stand, she holds on. She leans back to look into his face, her eyes are wide and thoughtful. "Gabriel…" When her gaze falls to his lips he opens his mouth to protest. But they are already kissing._

 _He has spent five blocks carrying her, and he has spent three years trying to forget the memory of his, her, their first kiss. But it was seared into the very fiber of his being, and he can't even put up a token resistance. The groan comes from deep inside him, years of pent up feelings and emotions he should not be feeling unleashed into one kiss._

" _God, no one kisses like you…"_

 _Her words first make a spike of purely male satisfaction swirl through him, followed by a jealous rage. Others had kissed her? Who? "No one else ever will." He does not think before he speaks. They feel right. He pushes her back into the couch, crowding into her until he is lying on top of her. She sighs when his weight falls on her._

 _Oh God, this is too perfect – she's all soft curves and fleeting touches. Her breasts are pressed tantalizingly against his chest and his fingers itch to touch them. But one hand is tangled impossibly in her hair, tilting her head back to bare the column of her throat to his mouth. His other hand is pressed possessively against her hip and when she shifts, he lets it slide down, down, down to the hem of her dress._

 _Skin, soft, creamy skin under his palm makes him groan into the curve of shoulder before him. He's panting as he reverses course, hand inching higher and higher, slowly sliding closer and closer to that secret part of her that he has been doing his best for years not to think about. Not to think about what it will feel like to sink into her, what noises she will make._

 _She's breathing harshly, little hiccupping breaths. One hand is so tight in his hair it almost hurts. The other – he hisses when her other hand suddenly slides against his hip, under the waistline of his jeans. It's hot and soft and so close to the part of him that is aching for her touch that he arches against her soundlessly. When she gasps he smells cheap whiskey and it brings him careening back to earth._

 _She's drunk… She's_ drunk _._

 _He starts to pull away, though it's the hardest thing he's ever done. "Evie, Evie," he calls when she attempts to cling to him. He brushes her hair soothingly, kisses her softly. She sighs in contentment and settles more fully into his couch._

" _Gabriel…" Then she is suddenly and deeply asleep._


	8. Chapter 08 Recollection

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 1,174  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _You do not choose your destiny, it chooses you. And those who knew you before fate took you by the hand cannot understand the depth of changes inside. They cannot fathom how much you stand to lose in failure. That you are the instrument of a flawless design. And all of life may hand in the balance._

* * *

He does not understand how to fix this. There is no power in his arsenal that can take back something that was stolen. Telepathy can bring memories she has forgotten to the forefront of her mind, but it cannot rewrite something that has been erased.

The Haitian was younger then, newer to his powers perhaps, because she looks at him with a sort of vague intent, like she remembers his face from a dream. Like she knows him but does not know why or from where. The details are gone, but the image remains.

"So you really don't know why you were there?"

She sighs, and looks up from the clock she was staring at on his table. Evie has been focused with hawk-like intensity on his work since they arrived here, trying to unravel some unknown mystery in the gears and knobs that are strewn about his apartment. "No, they just asked me a lot of question. Like about my childhood and my friends and stuff."

"And what did you tell them?"

"That I didn't know. I mean, I _only_ know people from the coffee house where I work." Her gaze is internal. "I don't remember my childhood – like, at all. I don't know my family."

He wants to tell her that her father was a police officer and her mother made cookies every Sunday and pretended she didn't know the pair of them ate them all. "That must be strange."

She smiles, a little ruefully. "I've gotten used to it. You can't really miss what you don't remember, right?"

But she does not remember ice cream cones in the summer, or her – their – first kiss, or – "Where did you get that watch anyway? It's fine work."

She looks at in surprise. "I don't know, I've always had it." She fumbles with the clasp in order to show him the inscription, the one he spent hours making perfect. "I feel like…" she pauses, blushing, and the sight makes him so nostalgic that for a moment he almost reaches out to her. "I feel like whoever gave it to me must have really loved me. It makes me feel safe…"

He quirks his lips in a wistful smile. "That's a nice thought." What's nicer is the memory of her face the first time he snapped the watch around her wrist. What's nicer is the memory of her smiling, huge and happy, at him.

She shrugs again, turning to smile at him. Presto: time travel. "Just knowing that someone out there loves me this much, makes everything seem not so bad."

* * *

 _She is radiant tonight – in a sleek black dress that hugs the curves he has been thinking about every night for a year. Her smile is wide and open and beaming as she saunters over to him, standing on the sidelines of her and her younger friends as they dance._

" _You're not going to dance with me?"_

 _He snorts. "No."_

" _But it's my twenty-first birthday," she pouts._

" _And I am only here for you." He presses a teasing finger to the tip of her nose. "You know I do not do clubs."_

 _Her smile widens. "Wanna go home?"_

" _No, I –" Suddenly, there is a teasing brush of fingers against his side, making his breath hiss. She is very close, leaning up to look at him with wide, imploring eyes._

" _I said: do you want to go home?"_

 _She emphasizes each word of her question with a tap against his side, until she reaches the hem of her shift. Before he can answer, she hand underneath the fabric, skin pressed to skin, scalding and close. His breath shudders out of him, and there's only one answer he can give. "God, yes."_

 _So they leave her friends, drunk and dancing, and walk to four blocks back to his apartment. But it is not like the last time he brought her home, blacked out and mindless. This time she is coherent, she knows what she is doing when she walks so close her arms and hips sway against his. She is fully aware when he finally groans in annoyance and pushes her against the nearest building to press his lips, harsh and demanding, against hers. She kisses him back._

 _He groans again, pressing closer, but still not close enough. He wants more – he wants skin – he wants everything. When he pulls away he is panting. "Let's go."_

 _How they make it all the way to his place he doesn't know. They are hungry for each other – can barely take five steps before they are kissing, before they are reaching for some piece of the other. Hands are sliding beneath clothes in the halls, his jacket and her shoes are lost as they make their way up the flights of stairs. When his door finally closes behind them, he slams her against it: hands frantically pulling up her dress, never still, wanting more._

" _Bed," she exhales and it sends a shock straight through him._

 _So they stagger to the bed, clothes falling in heaps onto the floor, so that when they tumble onto the mattress together it is naked flesh against naked flesh. "Oh, fuck." He does not know where to start, he wants to worship her, he wants to touch her everywhere, he wants to be perfect. But her hands are restless against him, her legs are cradling him closer, pulling him in to where he wants to be the most. "Evie, oh God…"_

" _Gabriel…"_

 _His name is a sigh, a benediction. It makes him tremble and he is gone, sliding into her and seeing stars. She is warm and hot and wet and perfect and he has been dreaming about this for what seems like years and now that it is happening he wants to make it last but does not think he can._

" _Gabriel, oh, please…"_

 _Yes, please. Yes, more. Yes…_

 _He stops thinking. He feels. He can, if he thinks, see the perfect way to make this work. He is not new to this, but he is new to caring, and he wants it perfect. And so he focuses on her, and he makes this flawless._

 _He builds and builds and at his peak he has one clear and concise thought – as bright as fireworks:_

 _He loves her._


	9. Chapter 09 Thought

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 1,108  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _You can run far. You can take your small precautions. But have you really gotten away? Can you ever escape? Or is the truth that you do not have the strength or cunning to hide from destiny?_

* * *

He isn't really sure why, some deluded sense of optimism maybe, that makes him think that they are safe. But they aren't, especially not now when they are together. It is too dangerous. But he forgets, and basks in having Evie in his home, pretends the last years did not happen, that she knows him, that she remembers him. Sometimes he almost thinks she does – when she smiles just so, or makes a joke she has made to him a decade before. It is all wishful thinking, and all it does it keep him unaware.

So he is startled when his door is suddenly kicked in on itself and a team of armed assailants stream in. When Evie screams he sees that one of them is pointing a gun at her and he is angry like he has only ever been once in his life.

"Let her go or I will kill you." His voice is dark, and promising.

The man answers by cocking the trigger and Sylar feels his blood boil. He takes a step forward.

"Gabriel…" She is crying.

He reaches out a hand.

"You really don't want to do that." When he looks over, it is to the simpering face of Noah Bennet, beside his Haitian. "You know what my friend here can do."

Sylar can feel his powers simmering beneath the surface, but with the Haitian in the room there is a blanket over them, a thick covering that blocks him from using them. They hover tantalizingly out of his reach. "Evie," he says, calmly. "I need you to do something for me."

"Y – yes?" She looks terrified.

Noah's brow wrinkles as he watches the interaction, warily.

"Remember when I told you that I am stronger than I look?" She tries to nod, but the man behind her with the gun jerks her still. "I need you to close your eyes and think about how strong you think I am." She looks confused, but at his calm and controlled look, her eyes flutter shut.

"Now what?"

Slowly, he grins, feeling that power rumble underneath the Haitian. "Now keep your eyes closed."

Moments (hours?) later, Evie and Sylar stand in a room of crumbled bodies. She is shaking, her chin trembling, but she is trying to stare at Noah and his comrade with fierceness. "I think you should leave no, Mr. Bennett." The pair are already inching towards the door. "And if I ever see you again, you know what I can do." He tilts his head at a puzzled Evie. "Especially with her by my side."

Noah's eyes are wide behind his horn-rimmed glasses. "This isn't over."

"Yes. It is." And with a flick of his wrist, Sylar sends them flying from the room, with the bodies of their enforcers, and slams the door behind them.

* * *

" _Evie, I – " He stops, unsure how to continue. "I –" He realizes he is chewing on his nail in agitation and forces himself to stop. "I don't know how to say this."_

 _She looks amused, as she lays on her stomach beside him in his bed, hair mussed and tousled, lips rough and reddened. She is completely at ease here, and the thought makes his heart swell. It has been the best year of his life. "Just spit it out, angel," she giggles._

" _I can see how things work." He says in a rush, before amending, "I think."_

 _Her brow is arched into her hairline. "What?"_

 _He shrugs, sitting up to lean against the headboard. "When I work on something, anything, even if it's something I've never seen before, I can – sort of sense how it works I never make mistakes because…" He gestures futilely. "Because I just_ know _how it works."_

" _You're telling me you have a super power?" Her tone is skeptical._

" _I – I don't think it's like that. I –" He glances around the room and sees nothing he can use. So he turns back to her, and he does something he's never tried before. He focuses on her._

" _Why are you staring at me like that?"_

" _Wait – um, what's something you know how to do, but I can't?"_

 _She looks flabbergasted. "I don't know – dance?"_

 _He glares at her, but then focuses again. When she tries to speak, he shushes her. He has never done this, but he thinks he can see the memories, just out of reach, how her in the club, of her dancing. There are the motions, the muscle memory, the grace. It is a long time later that he stands and, with perfect execution, several of the moves he knows she is fond of._

 _Her mouth falls open. "How – "_

 _He shrugs, unsure. "I don't know."_

 _Scrambling into a sitting position, she begins to flood him with questions. How does it work? Can he do it with anything? What if someone doesn't speak English? How does that happen? She makes him demonstrate again and again, on her, on machinery. It gets easier and easier every time. He thinks he is getting better, but the next day when he is alone in his workshop, he tries to learn a secret of the postman's and can't quite reach the thoughts. Thinking he overexerted himself, he forgets until an hour later when Evie visits._

 _He tells her about what happened and she implored him to try again. There are no problems, people's talents are as visible to him as the sun in summer._

 _His mind churns slowly, connected the pieces, but he always comes back to the same conclusion._

 _It is easiest when Evie is there. It is easiest when she believes that he can do it._

 _It has always been like that. The games she thought he was the best at, the sports she thought he was perfect at, he was always whatever she thought. Like her faith, her belief in him, enhanced whatever she imagined. He was a straight-A student without even trying, a great kisser, a great –_

 _Great at other things._

 _It was her, her gift._


	10. Chapter 10 Cognizance

**Title:** Empty Memory  
 **Genre:** Romance / Angst  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Sylar x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.  
 **Word Count:** 665  
 **Warnings:** Weird timeline.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _The Earth is large, large enough that you think you can hide from anything. From Fate. From God. If only you found a place far enough away. So you run… To the edge of the Earth, where all is safe again. Quiet and warm. The solace of salt air. The peace of danger left behind. The luxury of grief. And maybe, for a moment, you believe you have escaped._

* * *

Noah does not come for them after that. Sylar knows that will not always be true, but it will last for a while with Evie by his side. Bennett knows of her powers of Enhancement, and coupled with his arsenal of gifts they are a truly terrifying combination.

But he does not care about things like that, he only wants to be left alone with her – to try and rebuild a friendship that took a lifetime to mold. Those memories are gone, he has no gift that can get them back. They are empty spaces in her memory so that her mind looks like a puzzle. But the image in unclear, like a smudged painting.

She tells him what she knows of her past. That she smells oil and smoke. That she remembers talking to someone, but she cannot remember who. Their voice is deep, like his, and happy, like they are smiling. She remembers the feel of concrete on her back and sun on her face, she sees strobe lights and hears loud, pulsing music.

And ticking.

He laments those memories. That she doesn't remember their first kiss, their first night together. She will not understand inside jokes or references to people or places. There will be no more firsts for him. But there can be for her.

So he pursues her with the slow intensity of a jungle cat – quietly, softly, so slowly she is not even aware of his pursuit. He brings her to places he knows she'll love, shows her movies and plays music he remembers she liked. He knows her, better than she knows herself, so she does not stand a chance.

Kissing her is like taking a breath of air after drowning.

She is just as he remembers her, and he means to make sure they both never forget it.

* * *

" _So what are you planning on doing with your new and amazing power, Mr. Grey?" She is grinning at him, impish and charming._

" _I don't know, what can I do?" The door rings as it opens and two men walk in. When Gabriel reaches out to test them with his gift, he is startled to realize that he can't._

" _Can we help you, gentlemen?" Evie asks, when it is clear that Gabriel isn't going to say anything. She is looking at him askance in confusion._

" _Why yes you can, Miss. Taylors." The man with the glasses smiles genially. "My name is Noah Bennett. My companion and I have been looking for you."_

 _When they step towards her, Gabriel stands protectively in front of her. "What do you wa – "_

" _We are not interested in you currently, Mr. Grey. You pose no threat." He's reaching into his pocket and Gabriel sees the barrel of a handgun._

" _What – " But Bennet moves too quickly. In one smooth motion he had pulled out his gun and slammed the pommel harshly onto his head. Gabriel staggers sideways, blackness creeping over his vision. He slams down on his knees. "E.. vie.." He reaches out to her, but unconsciousness is blurring is vision._

 _The last thing he sees is the Haitian reaching out for a terrified Evie with a dark hand._


End file.
